Dr Blowhole Returns
by DrunkenTavern
Summary: The evil Dr. Blowhole is back with yet another plot to dispose of his arch-nemesis, Skipper and his team of penguin operatives. But when his plan ultimately backfires, an unlikely alliance is formed to stop an even greater evil from dominating the world.


Dr. Blowhole Returns

Plot Summary: The evil Dr. Blowhole is back with yet another plot to dispose of his arch-nemesis, Skipper and his team of penguin operatives. But when his plan ultimately backfires, an unlikely alliance is formed to stop an even greater evil from dominating the world.

Disclaimer: The Penguins of Madagascar is the property of Dreamworks Animation Studios in association with Nickelodeon. I do not claim ownership of The Penguins of Madagascar. Copyright infringement is neither intended nor desirable.

Rated Teen (T) for Mild/Fantasy Violence, Tobacco References, and Minor Suggestive Themes

_This is the very first fanfic I've written. Please read, review and comment. Constructive criticism is always appreciated and is fundamental to every (aspiring) writer. I took this story off Rookie's hands so he can focus on helping the - less inexperienced of our group. Still working on the plot details, will update later on. ~CalmKlawd_

***Prologue: Ascension***

Tranquility, that one word was what would best define this. The full moon hung overhead, illuminating the landscape with its ghostly-white glow. A soft breeze blew through the land, disturbing loose particles of sand, which danced around in restlessness as the soft caresses of the wind blew them away, a few feet from where they once lay, peaceful and dormant. The breeze carried the lone coyote's howl in the distance, echoing across the dune-filled landscape. The desert was serene, beautiful and untouched: pure tranquility.

This was what a fool would think. The calm desert landscape was but a mere disguise to what truly lay beneath it. It took him an eternity to find the location of this place, so deceiving to be considered silent, but he was no fool. He wasn't led astray by this cloak, and he knew that his treasure lay beneath the peaceful sands. He sighed to himself; the weather itself was against him. True, he could have waited for the moon to conceal herself once more, and the shifting sands to cease their turmoil; but by then, it would have been too late.

It took him considerable effort to acquire any scrap of information he could find concerning this. It started out with rumors, unverified and possibly untrue; but his faith and belief that such a thing could exist drove him beyond any limitations he set for himself in the past. Motivated by his zeal to find such an object, he spent every hour he had in finding it, much to the dismay of his comrades. He intercepted every communication he could find about it, spent every waking hour slaving away at charts displaying its possible locations, and even drove himself to the brink of insanity, all in an effort to find it. When he finally did, it was all worth it. His discovery of the wonder that this sanctuary was housing completely shook him. The possibilities coming from the development of this were astounding. If this were to be developed, maybe even perfected, his plans were set. He knew what the potential of this was, and he knew he had to have it.

The winds slightly grew, throwing more sand about, partially disturbing the scene. The conditions of this operation were not in his favor. The sands shifting constantly annoyed his comrades; the landscape was all too quiet: they would have to be equally silent and disturb the environment in the smallest way possible, and the full moon risked giving away their position. Anyone in their right minds knew this was a dangerous game, but the prize at the end was all too precious to let it slip away. It was too late to turn back, and he had no thought of turning back at all.

He once again studied the landscape, frowning inwardly at the cost of his failures, but also the cost of the bounty. He readied himself with steely cold determination, an almost manic gleam in his eyes. Having already spoken to his comrades, each of them knew what to do, each of them was in their respective positions, and each of them was awaiting his command. It _was_ too late to turn back now, his team was in position, and he knew he risked their lives if he quit now. He reached for something around his waist, brought it closer to him, clicked it on and said in a hushed whisper the word he both wanted and needed to say, '_Execute!_'

The flames glinted in the semi-darkness, the small beads of light flaring as the man sucked in the nicotine-rich smoke. His eyes were bored and eye bagged, still unaccustomed to night shift duty. His supervisor apparently had him transferred to some boring underground facility to protect a few research geeks and some big project. He didn't think this had any concern at all to do with him. 'Just protect the nerds….' his supervisor had said. He didn't think this project was worth the hours he spent pacing the halls aimlessly and having to stay up late in the night. His gruff mustache, which was starting to gray, stirred slightly as he blew out the smoke. He heaved up his rifle onto his lap and replaced the cancer stick for another puff. His buddies also shared how he felt: the long sleepless hours, the fact that they were stranded in the middle of nowhere and the only things they had to watch were the halls, their rears, and the nerds. He shook of the loose ash in the ashtray, and continued reminiscing as he leaned more on his chair, putting his full weight on it and stretching his legs on the tabletop. The storage and maintenance room was cool, half-lit, and his favorite spot in the base to relax.

Old and washed-up, he wanted to go dearly into retirement; but his duty had a seductive lure to it. His old army rifle, 'Bessie', was his only true friend left in the world. He wasn't even sure how he got drafted onto this bunker, watching over scientists slave over a project he didn't and couldn't care less about. Old as he was, he was still the best in the house. His buddies were also drafted into this hole, but were too far down the rankings to even match him. He took pride in being the best of the lot. His army experience made him an almost-official veteran. His hair was originally black but was now dappled with gray. His body was once muscular, and he put on a few pounds from living off a diet of military rations he was sure had expired several years ago. Despite being the best (and showing off a few, couple times), he still found it fun to just kick back at the end of the day and just enjoy a smoke or two with his buddies down in the break room.

He sighed, huffing yet again on the cancer stick. He remembered tonight was the last night of the project, and him inwardly jumping up and down with joy at the prospect of leaving this bunker forever and getting reassigned to a new job, or just let retirement take its course. The project was finished and would ship out by tomorrow, to be tested in another research facility. He and his buddies celebrated the usual way: with smokes, cards, and (expired) rations.

He smiled to himself, a thing he had not done ever since he got in this hole. He was about to stand to get another cancer stick from the shelf, when his military-trained ears caught the smallest of sounds. He immediately readied his rifle, and clicked the safety off. He veered off toward the door, moving slowly, making the smallest noises with his booted feet, rifle steady and aimed in front of him. He caught the sound yet again, only this time, it was sharper than before: it was a slight fast-tapping sound. Cockroaches? No it couldn't be; there were none in the desert and certainly none in this hole. Scorpions? Not possible either. He advanced slowly, cautiously, toward the source of the noise outside the door. He heard the skittering-like noise again, louder than before and more numerous. No doubt Ramirez was making another joke. He made a mental note to have him at court martial. Ridiculous things at a time like this. His common sense told him it was probably a joke, but his gut knew otherwise. He slowly pushed the door ajar, and could only make out a few silhouettes in the semi-darkness. They cut several lights already? They must be pulling out early.

He lowered 'Bessie', but raised it again as the sound of more skittering greeted his ears. It was coming from down the hall, where an elevator was placed leading to the upper floors. Whatever Ramirez was doing, this certainly wasn't funny. He pressed against the wall, and peeked around the corner. A deserted, half-lit hallway met his eyes as he moved away from the corner and slowly made his way to the elevator. He left the storage and maintenance room and entered the elevator. He went up to the main hall, which housed the armory, the sleep-quarters and the latrines. Gun still raised, he exited the elevator as soon as the doors opened.

The scene that greeted his eyes was not a good one. Guards' bodies lay all around the hall, facedown or slumped against a wall. He immediately ran to the nearest guard and checked his vital signs for any signs of life. The soldier was still breathing, and was only knocked out. Further investigation showed that he was hit on the head, blunt force trauma evident through the lump on the back of the unconscious guard's head. A few scientists were unconscious as well, and the sight of this spurred the old man into a state of alert. The intruders must have come to steal the invention. He looked to the side, and saw that the radio was broken, on purpose. Communications were cut, and he had no way of contacting the outside. Whoever the intruder was, he was thorough. The main lab was a few floors below him and as much as he hated the job, he had a duty to perform.

He ran back to the elevator, gun raised and heart pumping. He jabbed in the button to take him down to the laboratory. The elevator seemed to take forever as it moved deeper underground. The doors flung themselves open and he moved out, hiding behind the nearest corner and slowly peering around. This area was restricted access, and the only way to enter was a special keycard the ner—scientists had. He caught sight of an unconscious scientist just in front of the door. Whoever the intruder was, he was sloppy. He left the keycard right after he opened the door. He immediately picked up the card and opened the door, and quickly flung himself behind a corner and raised his weapon, ready for the worst.

The door opened and he moved in, weapon rose, hand on trigger. He has never set foot in the lab, having never qualified for security protocols. He followed the hall towards the main lab, glancing into several side rooms that obviously were the scientists' offices. Upon reaching the main door of the lab, he readied the key card, and heard once more the skittering sound, only louder, more prominent, and more numerous. He opened the door and quietly stepped inside.

The main lab was large, housing multiple working stations and other science-y things the old soldier would never want to learn about. At the center of the lab was a large cylinder, no doubt it contained the project. But now, it was empty. He ventured steadily toward the main tank, and checked his corners. No sign of an intruder, but the skittering sound was more amplified since the sound reverberated off the high ceiling. Without warning, the lights were cut off, an action which sent the old soldier into a more alert position. His breathing became more rapid, and he could sense the intruder inside the room. The fluids in the main tank were luminous and were the only light source provided. Instinctively, he backed up to the tank, which was surrounded by a railing, where a lowered ground was the cylinder's base. He jumped off the railing, and backed up to the blue glow of the tank. He caught sight of a scientist, and he lowered himself to check his vital signs, still conscious but barely. He was startled when the scientist reached out to him. His garbled speech was hard to make out due to his broken nose, which was gushing out blood which filled his mouth.

"Noh, Edi! Dobt com eni clohzer! Itz ah trab!" the scientist yelled.

Eddie continuously looked around, trying to find the intruder and make him pay. The scientist garbled something undistinguishable, but it sounded dire. He heard a thumping noise, and the scientist stopped speaking entirely. Eddie turned around, and saw the scientist slumped over, his lab gown spattered with blood and a large lump growing on his forehead. Before Eddie's surprise could even register on his own face, he was assaulted from behind by the intruder. His vision blurred as his head was jerked in the opposite direction, but he was still standing. Another blow caught him in the cheek, and his grip on his rifle slackened. A third and final blow struck him in the abdomen, and he finally crumpled, thoroughly winded. He tried to rise, but his vision was clouded, and he felt weak. He tasted blood, and licked his cut cheek. His breathing grew fatigued and haggard, and he fell right next to the unconscious scientist.

Despite his hazy vision, he caught sight of his assailant. Shock and awe appeared on his face as he gazed upon his attacker, or rather, attackers. No! They aren't capable of doing this, they aren't intelligent enough for this, and they aren't even _human_. A weird cackling filled his mind, a laugh that wasn't human, but it had an odd ring to it. It reminded him of the time he went to an aquarium as a young boy. He saw a pair of them dancing in the water, graceful and talented. A sparkle that reflected off the light from the tank partially blinded him. The realization dawned on him, and he knew that he had failed in both his duty and himself. As his assailant raised his arm for another strike, he prepared himself for the worst to come. The mad cackling filled his mind, and then he knew no more.


End file.
